Mosikiældavín
by Affrettando
Summary: What happens in the Institute, stays in the institute: Waking up with a hangover and no memory of the night before is the least preferred way for a high ranking Noxian soldier to start the day.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes you can go years and forget about the things you used to care about and love… You go years without writing, and then suddenly you decide you want to write a one-shot for a game you quit two years ago. I was going to add this to my one-shot collection but I felt like posting this fresh.

I haven't written in years, so my writing is probably worse now anyway. People change, ships change, that's cool. Also lore changes too, so maybe 60% of this uses old lore.

Am I still made up of cheesy hopeless romanticism? Yes. Will this be cheesy and predictable? Probably. Will I still write it anyway? Maybe.

* * *

 **Mosikiældavín** **:** Chapter 1

* * *

Waking up early had never been an issue for Katarina, the nature of her profession just didn't allow for it. She had, from a young age, grown accustomed to requiring very little sleep. After all, you didn't live very long in her line of work if you couldn't rouse quickly. Which is why the last thing Katarina expected was to be woken up by the mid-morning sun cresting up high, its light filtered by sheer blinds.

Katarina groaned, groggily rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, her head a cacophony of light and sounds. She cracked an eye open and froze.

This was clearly not her quarters.

Her body was suddenly on high alert, panic ringing in her head as she shot out of the bed she was in. She nearly tripped and tangled herself in the blue sheets on her way up, only to be greeted by a new alarming fact: she was naked as the day she was born.

Katarina's mind raced, as she tried to make sense of the situation. Clearly she had spent the night with someone, but the hangover that still muddled her brain meant she could pull no memories of the night before. Of course, she was an adult, with needs, and… it had been a while. Nevertheless, not having any idea of who her mystery companion was her biggest concern.

Bracing herself, the redhead gingerly tugged back the curtains, ignoring protests of her traitorous body, and was greeted by the familiar sights of the Institute grounds. Katarina let out a string of curses; bedding someone in the Institute was a nightmare, worse if it were a fellow champion. The politics involved were a messy subject she had wanted to avoid at all costs. Yet here she was, standing stark naked in an unfamiliar room.

She surveyed the room, darting around to pick up her lost articles of clothing, haphazardly throwing her leathers back on. Whomever she had slept with was no longer present and obviously was just as sparse in their room decor as Katarina was with her own. The room was mostly barren, save for a few furnishings and a plain four poster bed.

As she made her way to the window, Katarina collected her jacket from where it had been strewn on one of the chairs. The garment tugged and caught a metal helmet that was sitting underneath it, sending the helmet and the chair crashing over. The sound made the assassin wince, both in pain and in fear of discovery.

A few seconds pass, and her keen ear didn't seem to catch any sign of someone having heard. She breathed a sigh of relief before bending down to right her mess, and felt her blood crystalize when she realised she was staring at the all too-familiar helmet of the Barbarian King.

"Shit."

* * *

"You look like the chef had you for breakfast."

Katarina only glowered back in response as she plopped into a seat across from Sarah Fortune, one of the few people outside of her fellow Noxians that she could tentatively call a friend, her platter clattering unceremoniously on the table. Still, however good friends they were, the comment was also uncalled for; Katarina having underperformed in their earlier match, allowing Bilgewater to claim the prize boon for their chaotic city-state to use. In the mess hall they were currently seated in, the aforementioned catfish-faced chef was busy slicing fish at a food station with obnoxious flourishes. Having gotten too close on more than one occasion meant that Katarina really did get eaten by the chef multiple times.

Katarina flicked a pea from her plate, almost cracking a smile when it impacted Sarah directly in the middle of her forehead.

The bounty hunter wiped the spot with a scowl. "I know you aren't great at the whole conversation thing, but usually normal people use words to talk, not vegetables."

"Har har," Katarina deadpanned, "Just making sure you don't contract scurvy next time you're out to sea, Cap'n."

"I hope you're only joking, and that you actually know that you can't do that with peas."

Katarina pulled a half-hearted smile that looked more like a grimace.

"Yikes, you really look like shite."

"Thanks."

"Only stating the truth," the other redhead shrugged. "How much did you have to drink anyway? I mean, you were always known to bleed a monkey dry without getting absolutely sloshed."

Katarina groaned, "I don't know. I don't even remember drinking. Why was I drinking?"

"Who needs a reason to?"

She couldn't really argue with that logic.

Well. She could.

In reality there were plenty of reasons to drink. To great victories and national heroes, to losses and fallen allies, to lost childhoods, and to drunken mistakes.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at the lack of response as Katarina pondered, before responding more seriously. "You were celebrating your victory."

The gears in Katarina's head slowly creaked to a start. Her mind began to sluggishly pull the memories from whichever dusty corner her hangover had hidden them.

* * *

 _Katarina hugged the treeline, allowing the shade from the foliage to blot out her existence as she searched for her quarry. She carefully picked her steps as she went, avoiding anything that would cause noise underfoot. She might as well have been able to do it blindfolded. The summoners' time magic ensured that everything, after each match, returned to the exact state it had been the moment in time the spell had been casted. The fields of justice rarely ever changed._

 _Warfare, however, always seemed to shift its many faces, attempting to hide its nature to all but those the most familiar with it. Katarina knew it well. This may have been a time of peace, but the matches and fights held by the Institute of War masqueraded as contests of glory was not much closer to peace than even the rune wars. The only difference was that unlike her usual marks, the pompous ambassadors, or ancient generals long past their prime, her quarries often fought back. That, and they also never actually died anymore._

 _Today's match was instrumental to continue the growth of Noxus as a nation and a force of power. The Grand General had been putting forth the notion to expand their city state's borders further across the Northern Plains. A large ore deposit having been recently discovered, was their ultimate goal. Unsurprisingly, Demacia acted as the greatest opposition against the expansion. The ensuing negotiations culminated into today's match. Should Noxus win, the Institute would begin to discuss the limitations to the expansion and ownership of the newly discovered mines. Should they lose, they were to remain as they were, and the mines would likely be claimed by the institute for further resource allocation._

 _Katarina, of course, was here to do what she did best. She paused by a tree, ducking low and peering through its low hanging boughs. The nearby brook that divided the fields in half murmured, as if completely unaware of the bloodshed it witnessed every day. Katarina caught a glimpse of gold flashing not far up ahead, accompanied by the slightest of splashes._

 _Bingo._

 _Keeping low to the ground, she tailed her target as quietly as possible. To Lux's credit, she was doing a rather good job of trying to quiet her ragged breathing, but she had suffered quite a bit of damage from the assassin's hand. A long time ago, Katarina would have underestimated the light mage, boundless positivity concealed a mastery of her element like no other. There were also rumours that the Demacian was particularly good at reconnaissance, a fact that had yet to be proven, either speaking of its authenticity or of her unrevealed skills._

 _Katarina tailed for a but a moment, before snapping out her hiding spot, her coiled muscles launching her the short distance to close the gap. Lux turned at the sound, throwing a tangle of light behind her, the beams weaved, forming a complex cage around the approaching assassin; Katarina swung her arm, cussing when her knife whistled through the air having struck nothing, its reach stopped short by the burning bars. Making quick calculations, Katarina readjusted her grip, and aimed her knife right at the fleeing Demacian's back. The knife soared, barely arcing in its trajectory due to its speed, and landed true; The already wounded mage didn't have a chance, falling to the ground a half second later. Katarina's blade immediately reappeared in its holster seconds later, summoner magic at work._

 _Katarina examined the scorch marks on her arms as the prismatic cage faded, not too bad, as long as she got back to the healing dias in her base. She turned to make her way back when her mental connection with her team flared to life, and Darius notified her that Garen was on his way towards her. The warning came a little too late, as not a moment later, three-hundred pounds of Demacian fury burst from the trees._

 _Garen swept his massive blade, Katarina just barely managing to backflip over its edge. In a blink of an eye, she vanished in a puff of purple smoke, reappearing in the grasp of the nearest tree. Garen roared, swinging his blade again, this time in a double arc, using the full force of the momentum to somehow carve straight through the tree's trunk, bringing it toppling down with the assassin amongst its leaves._

 _The redhead braced herself for impact, gritting her teeth as a jagged branch tore through her leathers and into the soft skin of her thigh. The magic inhibitors set in the fields prevented her from performing another quick escape. She watched as Garen brought his sword up again, only to be stopped by a large axe head that hooked itself around the greatsword, yanking it backwards, but not quite out of the large man's grip. With Garen's attention momentarily occupied by Darius' arrival, Katarina took off in the opposite direction, back into the treeline, this time not caring to be stealthy. She made it about five feet before she felt her muscles spasm and seize up, a familiar melody playing at the edge of her awareness. Glancing backwards, she spotted the all too recognisable-in-blue Maven of the Strings, with Tryndamere hot on her heels immediately behind._

 _Katarina gritted her teeth, willing her body to fight the musical compulsion and to reach for her knives. There was a sharp pain as she closed her fingers around the blade, the gash weeping crimson. This was enough to shock her body into motion again. Not allowing her opponents to take any advantage of the situation, Katarina vanished once more, reappearing as a whirlwind of flashing steel. More blades and metal darts than seemed possible slid from hidden compartments as she moved, making quick work of Sona. Garen fell not long after, metal darts striking expertly at the weak points in his armour. Tryndamere had actually managed to bring the flat side of his jagged greatsword up, the knives flying at his face and neck bounced harmlessly off the makeshift shield. He, however, was scantily armoured, Katarina never really understood why, Freljord was cold as balls. The barbarian stumbled on his feet, his entire front peppered by the assassin's numerous types of blades. Hoping to finish the job, Katarina struck once more, spinning not unlike Garen had mere seconds prior, her blade sinking into the thick trapezius muscles by his right shoulder._

 _The barbarian's roar resounded through the nearby jungle, enough to startle a small flock of birds to flee. Katarina panicked, tugging at her dagger, but Tryndamere's shoulder muscles were tensed like stone, lodging the weapon impossibly tight. She tried to dart away again, but trying the blade had been a mistake, allowing the Barbarian to grab her by the throat with his large hand. His eyes blazed as he gripped her neck, and raised his sword in his other hand. Thankfully, Katarina's vision had already been going dark by the time his weapon struck._

* * *

That was right, they had won. The memories of the match were now clear in her mind. It had been a tough fight, but they definitely won. Noxus was to expand and hopefully encompass the mines with her growth. Still, the rest of the evening had been a blur.

"And… what happened after that?" Katarina chanced, worried about the response.

"Your lot partied into the night, damn near burned Singed's place to the ground." Sarah pulled a flask from the hidden folds of her jacket, uncapping it and pouring a healthy splash into a cup before pushing it towards Katarina. "Hair of the dog."

Katarina gave the barest of a nod in thanks before tossing the drink back, letting the rum burn her throat. She had always been more of a whiskey gal, but she wasn't going to complain about free booze.

"To be honest, I seriously thought it was going to happen when Tryndamere came in."

Katarina choked, nearly spitting all across the table when the alcohol burned her nose. She wiped her mouth, looking across at the bewildered Bounty Hunter. "What? When did that happen?!"

"Not long into your partying. You don't even remember the drinking contest?"

More and more clouds seemed to clear in her brain, resurfacing some more missing memories.

* * *

 _"GLORY FOR NOXUS."_

 _The resounding cheer practically echoed throughout the bar, as practically all of Noxus' champions and allies had explicitly made the trip to the Institute to spectate the match; thusly nearly everyone also went to celebrate that night as well. Katarina herself was being hailed a hero, having been able to kill the entire enemy team in one pivotal moment._

 _She was part way through another pint, courtesy of Kled, when a hush fell throughout the bar. All eyes moved towards the strange intruder, as Tryndamere, paying no heed to the confused stares, shouldered his way into the bar. Icy blue eyes locked with green from across the room, and the barbarian began to purposefully push his way through the crowded room. A low whisper of disapproving booing began to fill the space as he slowly approached the assassin, who was now standing to meet him. It wasn't that he wasn't allowed here, per se, there were zero rules about where league champions were allowed to frequent in regards to any public establishments on the institute grounds, more that people would stick rigidly to nations they were allied with. Freljord had made tentative alliances Demacia a long time ago when Ashe rose to power._

 _The hissing only grew louder and more disapproving, but the hulking man gave no acknowledgement to it, pulling himself into full height in front of Katarina. She raised an eyebrow. If he was trying to intimidate her, it wasn't working. There were plenty others just as tall and strong as he was, and Katarina had cut down each of them countless times. He also didn't look as tall as usual without the giant horned helmet perched on his head. She raised a hand, and the crowd hushed themselves._

 _"What do you want, Barbarian?"_

 _Tryndamere glowered down at her, "A rematch. A fair rematch without Demacian babies who know nothing of strength getting in my way."_

 _"And how do you suppose we do that? You know as well as I do that we are forbidden from harming each other off the grounds of the fields." Now that they were talking, Katarina caught a strong whiff of drink from the Freljordian's breath. He was likely already intoxicated, though his impassive face betrayed none of it._

 _Without breaking eye contact, the Barbarian grabbed a pint from the hands of a nearby Noxian summoner, and downed it, still staring at the assassin. The summoner partially stood up in contention but jumped back down into his seat when the empty stein was slammed back down on the table next to him. Tryndamere wiped the beer foam off his beard with the back of his hand._

 _"Real warriors can prove their mettle in the drink."_

 _"Interesting." Katarina mused. The crowd looked at one another wide eyed. "And what, pray tell, do I win when I show you how improper it is to show up uninvited here?"_

 _Tryndamere was unperturbed by the hiss of jeers that followed the taunt. "A solid chunk of nevermelting ice. The same glacier type that is used in Gragas' Graggy Ice. I'm sure your potioneer would be glad to experiment some drinks with it."_

 _"And if you win?"_

 _"Nothing. I need nothing but the pride of victory."_

 _Katarina hummed, pretending to be consider the offer, when in her mind, she had already made a decision. Tryndamere was a great deal larger than her, yes, but she knew her way around drinks. The smell on his breath told her that he already must have had a lot. Additionally, many have made the mistake of underestimating her, and lost much gold in gambling against her drinking abilities. Though, she had to give the barbarian credit, he didn't seem to be offering her the same. But most of all, this was her turf, surrounded by her people. There wasn't much to lose in the event of an actual loss. Other than her pride, of course._

 _"You have yourself a challenge, Brute."_

 _Within minutes, the bar's energy was back in full swing. Singed had a table cleared for the express purpose of the contest, while Sarah brought around their drinks as they polished off jug after jug. The raucous din grew in volume every time one challenger teetered on their seat, only to recover themselves once again._

 _"Not half bad." Tryndamere slurred after gulping down another pint._

 _"Yer not so bad yerself, boy-o." A tipsy Kled clankered over, two jugs in either hand, clapping the Barbarian on his back. Or as high up as his yordle self could reach. He plopped two of the steins on the table, "there ya go! More drinks on me!"_

 _Tryndamere threw his head back in laughter. "You lot are funny! Not much different from my people." He fished around into a leather pouch at his waist, and slammed a handful of gold pieces on the table, nearly spilling the full drinks. "BARKEEP. I WANT TO BUY EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM ANOTHER ROUND OF DRINKS."_

 _Everyone in the bar cheered, and the contest was momentarily forgotten, as they all took turns to clap the barbarian on the shoulder, all forgetting where anyone's allegiances lay with alcohol clouding their brains._

 _Katarina was not willing to be outdone, shouted over the crowd, "I WILL BUY EVERYONE TWO MORE ROUNDS OF DRINKS."_

 _Another cheer erupted throughout the bar, chaos descending as everyone crowded the barkeep's counter for fresh refills of their drinks._

* * *

Oh gods, the memory was worse than she thought it would be.

"Who won the contest? What happened after that?"

Sarah shrugged, "No one did. You both disappeared at some point, but I didn't see you go, I was too busy filling drinks. Luckily most everyone was too intoxicated to remember the challenge in the first place, so I don't think you have to worry too much about being known as a wet-eared coward. Though, you should know you've racked up quite a tab with that stunt."

Katarina groaned, placing her face in her hands, her headache making itself apparent again. Likely brought on both by the news of her bar tab, and the realisation that it was getting more and more likely that she had slept with Tryndamere last night.

"What's the matter with you?"

Katarina opened her mouth to respond, but let her jaw hang open when she spotted a familiar helmeted individual enter the mess hall, once again making eye contact with her.

Memories of skin contact, trailing tongues, and piercing blue eyes flashed through Katarina's mind, and she choked back her breakfast as it threatened to escape. She stood up, pushing her chair back with an audible screech, the resurfaced headache pounding in response.

"I have to go."

Sarah glanced behind her shoulder, seeing the Barbarian stride across the room, dodging champions and summoners alike in his approach. The bounty hunter gave a meaningful nod to the door, before standing up to cut off Tryndamere.

"Sinister blade, I-"

Katarina glanced over her shoulder to see Sarah had entirely blocked Tryndamere's way as he was trying to shout over her head to the Assassin. Fortune wasn't having any of it, and pushed the man back with a gentle hand on his chest. "Where you going so fast, big man?"

Katarina turned back around and dashed out the opposite exit from the mess hall.

* * *

"Now are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Katarina pretended not to hear, sawing a deeper crevice into the bar table with her dagger. They were currently taking refuge in Singed's bar, its open hours being later in the evening. The location did nothing to ease Katarina's rolling stomach, only bringing up shameful memories. Everything smelling of sweat and regret. Not even the practise match she had been summoned for just prior helped with blowing off any steam.

Sarah huffed, reaching forward from her leaning position against the countertop to pluck the dagger out of Katarina's hands. Katarina instinctively gripped the weapon tightly before acquiescing. The assassin opened her mouth, trying to formulate a response, looking like a confused goldfish for a moment. Heaving a deep sigh of exasperation, she continued to digging at the splintered welt, this time with her fingernails. Sarah tsked and flicked a coaster, knocking the nervous hands from their fixated prodding.

"Come off it, I just waxed that."

Katarina, huffed in response, crossing her arms as she leaned back in the worn, beer stained chair. She couldn't seem to still the restlessness in her hands, drumming her fingers on her arm, pondering how to approach the subject. Fortune waited patiently but didn't allow any moment of reprieve from her questioning stare. The two silently stared each other down, a short battle of wills that spoke volumes of their stubbornness.

Katarina found her mind drifting as she glared at the stormy gray-blues, mind traveling to the ice-like eyes that kept flashing through her fragmented memories. A groan surfaced from her chest, stretched by a release of frustrated emotions, becoming a loud primal growl. What a ridiculous situation to be in. Deep breaths were taken as the assassin re-centred herself, fumbling to find the right words.

"Last night, I may have ended up... spending the night with him." She mumbled, barely audible through the curtain of hair she had let fall over her face.

Sarah's eyebrows shot up. "Well that wasn't what I expected, but it explains a lot. How sure are you?"

"About as sure as waking up naked in his quarters, sure."

A look of sympathy crossed the bounty hunter's face. "How bad is it gonna be?"

"If word gets out? Catastrophic." This was exactly why she had a no institute policy. Fat load of good it did her last night though.

"You both already made quite a scene yesterday."

"Thanks for the reminder."

"You're welcome." Sarah Fortune, ever the charmer.

"Do you think I should threaten him into keeping his mouth shut just to be sure?" How about bribery? Should I just avoid him forever?"

"Where I'm from, they all sound like perfectly reasonable ideas."

Katarina dragged her hand across her face, and rolled her eyes.

"Hey! You're asking for advice from someone with a tragic backstory." Came the reply with a mirthful laugh. "In all seriousness, your only real options are to hope he keeps his mouth shut or to negotiate."

"Great. My specialty." Katarina quipped sarcastically. It wasn't so much as she couldn't do the job, but more that negotiating and all tasks conversational were best left to the likes of her sister and the Grand General.

"Aww, don't whine. Besides, he almost seems to be in a less favourable position than you; Would this be considered adultery, or treason? Maybe both?"

Fortune had a point, perhaps she would be able to turn the situation in her favour. Either way, she had to make sure that his lips were sealed.

* * *

Funny how when avoiding someone, encountering them is the inevitable outcome, but they are suddenly nowhere to be seen when they were being sought out. Katarina eventually found the man she was looking for out on the institute grounds. He walked briskly, albeit with frequent pauses, eyes scanning the distance. He seemed to be searching for something, or someone.

"Looking for me?" Katarina called from her perch on the rose garden wall, a small little spot of stonework that had yet to be engulfed in the vines of Zyra's newest botanical project.

Tryndamere's head snapped up to find the source of her voice. He really didn't need to look up far, he was almost as tall as the stone wall.

"Sinister Blade." He greeted grimly. "Are you done playing hide and seek?"

"Let's just cut to the chase. I hate small talk. Let's talk terms."

The barbarian's eyes narrowed, and for a moment they betrayed an undercurrent of rage that he quickly attempted to mask again. At least Katarina wasn't the only one with a crappy poker face.

"I would have never thought you Noxians to be a cowardly lot."

"Would you rather I be public about the whole ordeal?"

"Are you insane?!" At the outburst, Tryndamere gripped one of the edges of the wall, the stonework in his hand crumbling into shards as easily as if were a clump of dirt. "I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but this is insult to the crown, practically a declaration of war."

"You act as if you had no part in this," Katarina gritted her teeth in anger, this is why she hated talking. Stubborn men were the worst to argue with, always acting as if they were never the ones as fault. "It's worse for you, committing treason against your queen."

Where Katarina expected another angry outburst of a response, she was met with a confused look. Typical, men like that were always all brawn and no brains.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

It seemed that neither of them were on the same page.

"What do you think I was talking about?" Katarina tried, having spent the day fretting about the worst, she really had no idea what to expect as a response.

"Are we not discussing terms of the abduction?"

The redhead stared dumbly down at an equally confused barbarian.

"What abduction? Of whom?"

"Is this a joke, Sinister Blade? Where is my wife?"

"Ashe? Why the hell would I know that?"

Tryndamere looked incredulously at her, which was ridiculous. She felt herself with seeth with anger. She had begun to feel that perhaps maybe their nations were not so different after all, but clearly she was wrong. Everybody seemed to always assume as if Noxus had no sense of honour.

"You were the last person I saw in her presence last night."

Oh. Wait. That couldn't be right. Her mind retraced her steps again: The match, Noxus' victory, the celebrations, then the drinking contest, and then...

And then, with Tryndamere's words jogging her memory, the rest of the evening's events finally came rushing back to her.

* * *

 _"I think I won."_

 _Katarina laughed sharply at the slurred statement the Barbarian made. Halfway through the drinking festivities, they had lost track of what the initial goal was, and the Barbarian offered to introduce her to, what he claimed, was 'actual good liquor'. Now here they were, outside in one of the Institute's many gardens, sharing bottles of strange tasting alcohol of Freljordian make. It wasn't bad, it was quite smooth actually, but its taste was of indescribable heavy earthen tones, nothing like anything she'd ever had before._

 _"You only wish you did."_

 _Tryndamere sluggishly brought a hand up, wavering as he tried to point at her, "You only think you've had more. I had at least six of these bad boys before we even started."_

 _Katarina swatted the finger, "That's your own fault. It doesn't count."_

 _"Tryndamere."_

 _They both turned to find the source of the cold voice, to see Ashe, still in combat attire, standing nearby, arms crossed._

 _"Oh, miss no-fun is here!" Tryndamere swung his arm in a comical mockery of a grand welcoming gesture, the drink in his hand sloshing healthily into the grass, narrowly missing the Frost Archer's boot. "Whoops!"_

 _"I think it is about time to call it a night, hm? We leave for home tomorrow at dusk." Whatever the Queen felt about the situation she saw laid out before her, her voice bellied none of it._

 _Tryndamere shrugged in response, and staggered to his feet, using the stone bench to steady himself._

 _Katarina's keen ears caught him murmur, "I'll be at summoner Tryssa's" as he passed by Ashe._

 _"Does this mean I win by forfeit?" Katarina snarked at his back as he walked away. He flipped a bird back at her without responding. "Aw come on, I thought we were becoming friends!"_

 _She turned her attention back to Ashe, who had now walked closer and was picking up the empty glass bottles. "I don't suppose you're going to take his place in his wager."_

 _"Whatever it was, I am sure it was foolish." Ashe responded without looking up._

 _"Wow, you really are miss no-fun. What have you got to lose from letting loose for once in your life?"_

 _"Plenty when you have a nation to run."_

 _"Oh come on, your husband left plenty of booze behind." Katarina wasn't quite sure as to why she was so invested in pushing Ashe's buttons. Maybe it was all the alcohol she already ingested. Or perhaps it was the indifferent airs that the other woman seemed to put on, and now her addled brain wanted nothing more than to peel back those defenses and see if the ice queen really was as frigid as she seemed. The existence of the Institute of War made for strange relations with other nations. Dining with and associating with people that could be considered her enemies, spending years alongside them, and yet knowing nothing about them at all. "We can make it a game of skill."_

 _Ashe finally met her gaze, her eyes a slightly lighter shade than Tryndamere's, a shade so reminiscent of ice that Katarina swore she felt a chill. "You are already drunk, that is hardly fair."_

 _Katarina took another swig from the bottle she still had in her hand, polishing it off, then tossing it into the air. Faster than most eyes could track, she tossed a small throwing dagger and watched as it shattered the falling bottle in mid air._

 _"Not a problem." She grinned, nodding at the bow that Ashe still had slung across her back. It didn't look like the same one she used on the Fields of Justice, just a plain wooden longbow with minimal embellishments. "Let's make it a game to finish the drinks, and destroy the bottles."_

 _"There is no point in this."_

 _"You're just afraid to lose your pride as a marksman to a drunk."_

 _Ashe raised a white eyebrow, she looked more amused than anything else. "Are you not far too old for taunts and games?"_

 _"Old enough to know a coward when I see one."_

 _Ashe picked up a bottle and sniffed its contents, "Hm, Mosikiældavín. Interesting choice."_

 _"What's that?"_

 _"It is a spirit made from a moss that somehow manages to grow on practically anything.. On wood, stone, even never-melt ice. They say the alcohol we make from it maintains its hardiness and even has medicinal properties." Katarina bit back her excitement as Ashe unslung her bow, and deftly strung it. The archer finished the small bottle off, and pulled an arrow from her quiver with the same hand. Now was a question of how she would manage to toss a bottle and draw and aim a two handed weapon. Katarina just barely had a moment to wonder at that, before Ashe somehow, in one fluid movement, tossed the bottle up, and drew her bow. There wasn't a moment of hesitation as she released almost immediately and the arrow decimated its target. "It was my mother's favourite."_

 _"And here I was thinking I would have the one-handed weapon advantage."_

 _"Sorry to disappoint." Ashe said with a wink._

 _Katarina felt her stomach churn, clearly she had more to drink than she thought she did, but she wasn't going to back down now from a queasiness. She certainly wasn't going to let Ashe throw her off her game either. She quickly finished off another bottle, and just like the first demonstration, her aim was true._

 _Ashe surprisingly seemed to pick up the spirit of the competition and followed suit, and they soon fell into a quick rhythm of drinking and throwing bottles. As they grew nearer to the end of their small supply, it was clear that they were both neck and neck. Having drank a significant amount, Katarina's aim was starting to grow a little dicey, missing a few first attempts here and there. Ashe did not have as much to drink, however on the other hand, she seemed to be the more lightweight of the two as she too had to quickly fire off a second arrow to get the bottle before it hit the ground. At this rate, it didn't seem like there would be a clear winner._

 _Ashe finished one of the last bottles, and took her position to toss and fire again. Katarina found her eyes following the trained movement of the other woman. Even while tipsy, the Queen held herself with a certain level of poise; Straight back, and confident shoulders. The moonlight highlighted her features, reflecting off her hair and pale skin as she prepared herself to throw. The same fluid single-motion she had been using was almost captivating to watch, as she brought her hand around to nock the arrow. Usually Katarina was on the other side of that aim, never having a moment to really pay attention to the intricacies involved in firing an arrow. Ranged weapons were never her specialties when she was still in training. The Archer was definitely a lot stronger than she looked, a bow of that size would require a considerable amount of force to draw, making it all the more impressive that she was able to aim so accurately and quickly._

 _It was easy to associate Ashe, the Queen of Freljord, royalty, to that of the royalty she had to kill before. Soft, weak, and only good at silver-tongued conversation. As many times as the Noxian had died by the Ashe's hand, it was still easy to forget. Ashe was never hot-tempered or violent like many of the other warriors in the Institute, but she was still a trained warrior, and it would do Katarina no good to forget that._

 _She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she, only at the last minute, noticed Ashe kick up one of the empty bottles that Tryndamere had left behind. The bottle flipped up, directly into the path of the arrow that pierced through two bottles at once._

 _"HEY! You can't do that!"_

 _Ashe laughed, a sound Katarina was sure she had never heard before, throaty and yet still managing to be delicate. "Says who?" She bent down to pick up another bottle and they both paused when they realised there was only one more left._

 _Katarina swore, if she hadn't been so distracted, she would have gotten that one already. The two women momentarily made eye contact before they both pounced, grabbing at the final bottle. Ashe, being closer, managed to wrap her hands around the bottle first, twisting her body, trying to wrench it from Katarina's grip as it closed around on top._

 _Katarina was right, Ashe was far stronger than she looked, but there was no way the assassin was going to give up. Close quarters combat was her specialty. As Ashe twisted, Katarina shifted her weight, going with the motion, tipping the archer off balance, bringing them both to the ground. They wrestled for dominance in the grass for a moment, before Katarina finally managed to roll them over with herself on top, straddling Ashe._

 _"Just. Let. Go." Katarina forced through her gritted teeth._

 _Ashe didn't respond, only pulling downward harder, trying to dislodge the assassin's grip. Katarina refused to let go, nearly face planting into her opposition's shoulder. Ashe gave one last tug, freeing the bottle, but losing grip in the process. The bottle went spinning across the grass, out of reach. Katarina was about to leap off towards it, but was stopped by a pair of hands grasping at her jacket, pulling her back down. Katarina let off a short laugh, she never expected Ashe to be the competitive type._

 _"Don't you dare." Ashe gasped, short of breath, "Just accept I won."_

 _"That's what you..." Katarina trailed off, when she realised how close Ashe's face was to her own. She had never been so close to the other woman outside the heat of battle. Every detail in her face was visible. She would be lying to say that the Queen was not beautiful, especially lying beneath her, skin flushed, white hair fanned out on the grass. Katarina's eyes traced a faint scar she had never noticed before on the archer's right cheek. It looked like it had once been a nasty gash from her jaw nearly up to her nose. She continued trailing her gaze upwards, following the curve of the high noble nose, up to the ice-blue eyes, framed by snow white eyelashes. She could feel Ashe's cool breath fan across her face, laced with the musky smell of the Mosikiældavín, her own hot breath mingling with it._

 _Ashe's striking eyes captivated Katarina, making her unable to tear her gaze away, erasing all logic from her mind. Not like there was much left with all that she had to drink. It was almost as if she was experiencing everything from behind a veil of confusion, her brain lagging slightly in comprehension. When it finally caught up, she realised she had closed the gap. She felt cool lips press urgently against her own. Then, it was like a dam broke, all the tension she had been holding in her body melted away as she pressed her body against Ashe's. There was no thought left, nothing but primal action. Some part of her registered that Ashe was responding in her movements, which further spurred her on. She felt a pair of hands move, exploring, leaving a strange cool sensation in their wake, even through the fabric of her clothes._

 _In kind, Katarina's mouth explored, enjoying the light gasps when she sucked at the long pale neck. Her own hands grabbing at what she could, the heat in her belly growing, becoming difficult to bear. She felt like she was on fire, Ashe's body was like an addiction, not being able to get enough of the cool skin against her own. At the edge of her awareness, she heard a voice moan her name._

 _A sudden whirlwind of movement, and Katarina found herself looking up in shock as she was now on her back. She took a moment to reorient herself, their positions were now switched. The light of moon was now at Ashe's back, caught by the white strands, wreathing her head like a halo. Ashe grinned down from above cheekily, and lowered herself again to continue where they had left off._

* * *

"Oh." The word fell out of her mouth when the evening finally caught up with her.

"OH?" Tryndamere reached up, and wrestled Katarina down from the wall to slam her against it, her being too shocked to react in defense. "Is that all you can say? Where is she?"

Katarina drew a dagger ready to slice at the grasping hand when, like déjà vu, a familiar voice rang out. "What are you doing?"

Tryndamere whirled around, releasing the assassin when he saw Ashe standing there. This time, dressed in finer robes, flowing whites with gold trim, quite different from the ones she normally wore on the fields. A tiara made of woven gold filigree resting on her braided hair, though Ashe hardly needed it to express authority as she did it enough from her presence alone.

"Are we ready to leave?"

Tryndamere looked back at Katarina, a baffled look on his face, before turning away to follow the archer.

"Funny you keep interrupting us like this." Katarina quipped.

Ashe paused in her step, turning back to lock eyes once more. Images of the night before, now clearly passing through Katarina's mind. Her own body pressing against a decidedly female body in her memories, tongues, and wanton gasps. Those eyes, always those eyes.

The moment was lost, when Ashe, without responding, turned heel and continued on with Tryndamere trailing behind like a confused dog.

"Shiiiiiit."

* * *

Okay. So it might be a two shot. Or a chapter thing. Depends how I feel. (There are also a few typos here and there that I need to fix, but I'll do that later... When I feel like it.)


	2. Chapter 2

Oh look, I'm in so deep that I felt the need to actually update within the century.

Also dang it, all you guys guessed what I was planning for this second part.

Quick thing to mention, if it wasn't obvious already, this uses perhaps 70% old lore. Pre-2013-changes Ashe is always queen in my heart. The remaining 30% is a combination of new lore and stuff I pulled out of my ass.

* * *

 **Mosikiældavín** : Chapter 2

* * *

Ashe's eyes snapped open, a profound feeling of dread accompanying her sudden awareness. The sun's warming rays harshly pushed away the fading nightmare with a dull throbbing headache, made no better by her parched throat. The conjured dreamscape of inky blackened ice made way for memories of recent transpired events involving much alcohol consumed in the presence of a certain assassin. There was a soft breathing from next to her, and that was enough for her to fill in the gaps in her mental recollection.

Ashe closed her eyes again, face screwed up in a grimace, and took deep measured breaths. As much as she knew it was futile, she hoped that her assumptions were wrong, and that it was merely Tryndamere lying in bed beside her, but she knew it could not be true. The man snored like an ox, and he almost never spent the night in their quarters. Additionally, all the sheets were stolen to the other side of the bed, which neither Ashe nor Tryndamere ever did to one another, as they both tended to get too warm as opposed to too cold.

She cracked an eye open again, and with much effort lifted her head to take a peek over her shoulder. A bundle of blankets greeted her with a shock of red hair tumbling from between the folds. Ashe exhaled sharply through her nose, holding back a groan, and gently slid off her bed to find her garments.

How ironic that one could spend years cultivating a public image to appease fickle and traditional people only to have it all threaten to collapse in a momentary lapse of judgement and sobriety. Her body stiffly ran through motions on autopilot as her brain ran wild, calculating the next best possible approach to the situation.

Amongst her people, it was forbidden for a woman, let alone a warmother, to be intimate with anyone outside their oathbound, least of all one from another neighbouring nation they had tense relations with. She absentmindedly sipped at her tea that she had made without realising, allowing its taste to soothe her thoughts. She glowered at her bedroom door from the seat she was now perched at in the attached living space of her quarters, as if her stare would make all her problems go away.

She wished.

She had to tackle this logically. It would be like one of the countless games of hnefatafl that she used to play with her mother. 'It would do you good in teaching you strategy', her mother always said. She had to play smart and tactically, and not let her pieces get cornered. It would be no different than trying to read Katarina's next moves on the fields, and that, she had plenty of experience with.

Ashe had once thought the assassin brash and hot headed, though she really was, countless battles to the death against her proved there was still much more to her than that.

Katarina was a skilled high ranking Noxian assassin, no one in Noxus rose to power without being careful enough to watch their back, not much unlike Freljord. In battle, she always only struck whenever most opportune, performing dances with her victims, luring them out of comfort to reveal their weaknesses before preying on them. The key would be not to show weakness.

Ashe steeled her nerves, and waited, watching her door, her mind running through every possible route of conversation and how she could expertly twist the verbal battlefield to her advantage. She was suddenly shaken from her reverie by a muffled crash coming from the other side of the door, the sounds of steel impacting what was likely the hardwood floor. Ashe furrowed her brow, making her way to the door to get a better listen, hand poised on the molded handle. She caught a whisper of what sounded like an expletive before silence descended once more. She waited a few moments with baited breath, but she couldn't seem to hear anything else.

Ashe tentatively turned the handle, opening the door to reveal her empty room, the sheets awry on the floor, and a chair toppled over, Tryndamere's helmet had joined the haphazard floor decor, explaining the mysterious crashing sounds. Across the room, the curtains fluttered gently from the breeze coming through the open window. Ashe strode across, leaning out over the sill, catching the slightest glimpse of red and black, nearly invisible to anything but her sharp eyes, flashing through the trees below. She sighed and closed the window.

For some reason, Katarina making a quick escape didn't occur to her, but no matter, good tafl players knew to have a contingency plan for anything unexpected. The avoidance of any sort of conversation may have put Ashe in a better position after all. If Katarina spread word about their evening tryst, it was her word against Ashe's. No one would believe her, Ashe would make sure of it.

A soft rap on the door to her quarters interrupted her thoughts.

"Lady Ashe?" A voice floated through the door, likely belonging to one of the many attendants the Institute had to offer in keeping the establishment running. Ashe cracked the door open, knowing that she hardly looked the part of a royal, in the previous day's combat attire and eye bags to match, thankfully the woman on the other side was polite enough to pretend to not notice.

"Yes?"

"Your advisor requested that I summon you."

Ashe nodded, thanking the woman before sending her on her way, and closing the door. She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on.

Hamund, the advisor in question, was an old crone of a man, and perhaps one of her greatest adversaries off the fields. He was stuck in old traditional ways and fiercely loyal to her mother when she led the frørbogmóðir clan. Unsurprisingly, he was the most vocal in calling for Ashe's head before she was granted Avarosa's bow, and even then did he only begrudgingly accept her leadership. Their agreements since were tense; He called Ashe's choice, to form a council with him on it, one that only a fool would make. Regardless, he took the seat and continued to be a constant thorn in her side, disagreeing with all her choices on anything that steered Freljord down a course that veered away from the ways of old.

Recently he had accompanied her to the Institute to monitor that she was, in his words, properly representing his people. Surely the summons meant nothing good. A part of her panicked that perhaps he had already gotten wind of what had transpired last night, but she knew better than to jump to conclusions.

Ashe trudged to the closet in her bedroom to clean herself up. Political warfare meant that even one's personal presentation played a major factor in gaining the upper hand. She had selected a set of her finer robes, when she caught a sight of her reflection in the mirror and froze. Though her bunched up cowl obscured most of it, a line of reddish purple bruises marched a trail up the pale skin on her neck. She felt her face redden as the vivid memories of rough bites painting her skin with the unmistakable blemishes ran through her mind. She hurriedly made sure to select one of her higher necked tunics to go with the outfit, making a grand show of it to an audience of zero, trying to act as if she wasn't flustered in the least.

* * *

The hearth in the room crackled almost as if in greeting upon Ashe's arrival, more enthusiastic than the half-stand the stooping old man in the seat offered for her. She took the seat across him, knowing full well that Hamund, skin leathered by harsh arctic winds, hardly needed the warmth in the barely cooling late autumn weather. He regarded her for a moment with his one good eye, looking for cracks in her facade, as if trying to see if she would show the physical discomfort the warmth caused her.

"I was not aware we were in the business of dealing with Noxians." He began at last after a moment's silence.

"I was not aware the council was in the business of prying into personal lives." Ashe internally thanked her years of intensive training on controlling her breathing, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest.

"Child, you are naive to think that this does not reflect upon Freljord's good name. I can not allow your _champion_ to continue on as he is any longer." Hamund practically spat the title out in disdain. "Losing matches on loan to other nations? Fraternising with another? You let him do whatever he wishes, soon you will find that no one will take you seriously if you can not keep him under control."

Certainly not the tirade she was expecting to hear, but definitely not the one she wanted either. Still, she said nothing, training her face and posture to remain ever like true ice, even as he continued on about how she was clearly unworthy as Freljord's leader. She felt a heaviness in her heart as she watched his face, contorted with rage, spittle practically flying, a far cry from the once kind man who stood at her mother's back. She quickly buried the memory, there was no point mourning once was when he had quickly changed his tune after he realised Ashe was not going to follow the same raiding traditions.

The bittersweet feelings melted away to a simmering anger that that prickled under her skin. She felt it boil with every admonishing word that Hamund unleashed. The sweltering heat of the room only added to its blaze.

" _Where does all that aggression usually hide?"_ Katarina's amused voice rang in her mind. The memory surfaced as a ludicrous comparison to the matter at hand: The irony of Katarina having asked that in a post coital haze, to Ashe now controlling her anger while being lectured about barbarian savages not being able to help flirting with the enemy.

"I loath to think what your mother would think of all this were she still alive."

 _SLAM._

Hamund stared in stunned silence at the hand Ashe slammed on the tabletop, his face a portrait of shock.

"That is **enough**." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. Although she spoke quietly, it seemed almost as if her words carried the force of the Gelid Vortex behind them. A chill permeated the room with its reaching tendrils.

"You… how dare you. You are but an insolent child disrespecting her mother's legac—"

Ashe pressed her fingers against the table, trying to keep her hand from shaking. Hamund halted mid sentence, flabbergasted as lines fine frost crystals spidered their way across the table from under Ashe's hand with audible snaps.

"My mother died for a cause that never should have been in the first place." Ashe wrestled to keep her voice steady. Over a decade felt like hardly enough time for her to forget the painful memories of holding her mother's lifeless body. The sting of a cold she no longer felt, her tears frozen on her cheeks, and same pain in her chest, all of it as vivid as it had ever been. Yes, she had become a leader that day, she assumed her mother's mantle, and issued orders resulting in their tribe's survival, there was no doubt that day that she would succeed her mother. It was also that day that she vowed to change Freljord's ways.

"Whilst the rest of the continent is at peace, we still find quarrel amongst our own. What good will traditions do us when we are dead? We can no longer continue to fall behind." Ashe released her hand from the table, leaving behind a complex lattice of ice across its surface. "Furthermore, Tryndamere is your King, he has done far more for Freljord on the fields than you have with your attempts to rift us back into raiding tribes. You are to respect him as such. What he may do in his personal time is of his own interest, and not any of your concern.

"As for my insolence, as you say, I will do well to remind you that things are different now, and we no longer stand on the same grounds we once did. Freljord is well on her way to change, and perhaps now people will not be so eager for my head should you call for it."

Ashe stood up to leave, schooling her face back into its usual impassiveness, a contrast to the racing she felt in her heart. She wasn't really sure where that all came from, not sure if she was really defending Tryndamere, or herself.

Hamund offered her no response, nor did he try to stop her as she left the room, his gaze trained on the extinguished hearth, the logs slick with ice.

* * *

"Copper for your thoughts?"

Over her shoulder, Ashe nearly chortled at how proportionally small Tryndamere managed to make the large bison beneath him look. The creature snorted and shook fresh snowflakes from its shaggy gray fur. She turned her attention back to the icy expanse before her, mentally chiding herself for spacing out. She may be a champion protected by the Institute, but only from other champions. The teleportation point she had agreed to set up with the institute was established as in the middle of nowhere as she possibly could put it, nearly dead centre between where the three major tribes' territories met. While that did cut transportation time from the institute by weeks, their caravan had been on the road for two days and was still another day's travel off from Rakelstake.

"Hm, just watching for storm signs."

"Is this the calm before the storm, then?" Tryndamere brought his mount up to speed alongside hers.

"No, it only looks like a light snowfall."

"That's not what I meant." Tryndamere nodded his head back towards the covered sleigh hitched to another pair of frost bison behind them. "He's a lot quieter this time than he was on his way out."

The unspoken question didn't go unnoticed to Ashe whom, having spent enough time with Tryndamere, had come to appreciate that he respected her tendencies of keeping to herself. He asked questions without actually voicing them, leaving them on her terms to answer if she wanted to.

"I perhaps... may have given him a piece of my mind."

Tryndamere guffawed, "I don't believe it. You? Queen he-arranged-an-act-of-treason-but-I'll-make-him-a-council-member Ashe? That certainly sounds out of character."

"Well he should do better than insult one of my Oathbound." Ashe replied indignantly, knowing how childish their banter sounded. She enjoyed having someone around that she could relax a little with. It was unfortunate that they were not romantically compatible, life would be too convenient that way.

"I should be flattered her majesty thinks so highly of me." Tryndamere replied, easily tossing the proverbial conversational ball back. "Though I'm sure she's well aware that I couldn't care any less as to what a bunch of stuck up old folk think of me or my people. Frankly, I'm surprised you even bothered. What was the straw that broke the frost boar's back?"

"Fraternising with Noxians was the charge. That and your so-called embarrassing performance on the fields."

"Bah, my sword saw more blood than the rest of the Demacians combined."

"And the Noxians? You surprise me with your willingness to associate with them despite past transgressions."

"The drink brings people together indiscriminately. It doesn't mean the past is forgiven, nor forgotten. We were merely at a moment of peace. We will continue to be at odds on the fields." If only things were as simple as Tryndamere was making it out to be. "Though I have to say, they are quite good drinkers. I almost lost to the Sinister Blade."

"From the looks of it, she did not seem like she was much better off than you."

"She definitely was acting strange the next day. She said something about me committing treason? And she couldn't seem to remember that she had seen you the previous night. Babbling incoherencies, really. Maybe Freljordian spirits are better suited for stronger stomachs."

"That still doesn't explain as to why I found you practically strangling her."

"I assumed the worst, since the last I saw you was in the presence of a drunk Noxian."

Ashe mulled the new information over, trying to ignore the rolling she felt in her gut. It would seem that Katarina remembered that night differently up until confronted about it by Tryndamere. It didn't really change anything in the end, or the fact that Ashe had spent the previous days stressing about whether pretending nothing was amiss and leaving Katarina to her own devices back at the institute was the best choice. Who knew what would happen while she was away? Worst case scenario would be Swain would be told, and that information was in far more dangerous in his hands. However, she did take a minute about of amusement from imagining what it would have felt like for Katarina to think she had slept with Tryndamere.

"And you are not worried for your reputation?"

"I am not the one with a nation on my shoulders. We may share the burden but we both know that all eyes are not on me. Whatever I do, no matter what the crockety old rat says, doesn't mean a thing." Tryndamere shot her a sympathetic look. "When do you ever get to do something for yourself instead of pleasing others?"

' _You would be surprised.'_ Ashe pressed her lips together, feeling a frown forming as the thought passed. Since when did she consider sex with Katarina a self indulgence? Indeed, the event was a form of stress relief that caused an unduly amount of stress in itself, but self indulgence was surely a stretch. Still, there was no denying that the Sinister Blade was indeed attractive, no one would disagree with that. Even Ashe, with all her devotion to her cause, had to admit that the redhead infuriatingly caught her eye on more than one occasion.

Tryndamere took the silence as a cue to end the conversation, knowing not to push the subject, and trained his vision back to the landscape ahead. The rest of their journey was made in a comfortably familiar silence.

Arrival at Rakelstake was an opposite story, as the pair was immediately caught up in a flurry of commotion. Reports flooded in with updates that Ashe hadn't yet received on the road, many requiring her immediate attention. She was allowed a brief moment of reprieve from the bombardment when she was greeted by Braum in his usual fashion of reception by sweeping her up in his massive arms in a tight hug. The news he brought, however, was far more somber.

There were more attacks on the north-east border of villages, the Winter's Claw was ruthless this season. They pillaged supplies, destroyed homes; Many felt as if they had no choice but to join Sejuani to survive. Ashe gnawed gently on a callous on her thumb, considering her options. She fought the frustration that rose to her heart. If only Sejuani didn't insist on remaining so stubborn. They could share supplies, establish trade routes to the eastern portion of the territories and no one would have the need to fight for survival.

Ashe called for a meeting, damage control needed to be done. The lack of supplies in the raided villages were a serious concern, especially with winter looming on the horizon. At the very least, when the season hit in full force, the Winter's Claw would not attack in the foul weather that kicked up, as it made most the mountainous passes between the regions near impossible to pass through safely. Part of the council argued to leave the villages to their own devices. "They're doomed." They would say, as the agricultural reports were compared. There wasn't much to spare for aid, and they wanted to cut their losses in the form of human lives.

It was late in the evening before Ashe was able to reach an agreement: They would send the necessary supplies, shorting from Rakelstake's stores. Tryndamere and a some supplementary forces would accompany the goods, both to provide protection until winter arrived, and as a symbol of good grace for the ransacked villages in sending the King to oversee in their restructuring. There was still the matter of filling the deficit incurred in the sending of the goods. It was inevitable that they would need outside help: Ashe would thereby return to the Institute in a week's time with Braum to participate in prize matches. With everyone at least somewhat satisfied, the meeting was brought to an end, and Ashe was finally allowed to retire for the evening.

* * *

Ashe roused with a start, sleep evading her once again. Her heart racing as she caught her breath, sweat glazing her brow. She kicked off the thin sheets, drawing herself to the edge of the bed as the lingering feelings of the hands in her dream ghosted across her skin, causing her to shudder. She must have been a sight to see, she thought, thanking the fact that Tryndamere didn't share quarters with her here back home; It was easier to play the part of a loving royal couple to outsiders, rather than explain the complex culture of oathbound and how it differed from their concept of marriage.

It wasn't out of place for her to be having dreams, nightmares were quite frequent actually, but the ones she had been plagued with as of late were of the strangest sort. She had dreams of her night with Katarina, some of it lifted from the actual events, and some seemed to be mere constructs of things that never transpired. Stranger still were that sometimes they would combine with her usual nightmares of black corrupted ice to create some sort of weird perverse horror for her to experience. Either way, however her dreams presented themselves, they more frustratingly had one thing in common. She couldn't seem to get that redhead with her infuriatingly cocky grin out of her mind.

Ashe let out a small groan of annoyance, and got up to change into something more outdoor appropriate. If she wasn't going to be able to sleep, perhaps a short excursion would do her well in clearing her head. She knew she had been attracted to Katarina a long time ago, a detail she kept locked away on the account that nothing would ever happen of it. They met with one another mostly as opponents on the fields, killing each other over and over again for glory. Occasionally though, they did fight on the same side when on loan for gold to other regions, usually Bilgewater, not caring for who they could get. She discovered that Katarina was as witty as they come, and that there was far more lurking behind the facade of that of a cold-hearted killer. She had come to respect that, and in time, had almost come to fear it, knowing that her curiosity in wanted to know more about Katarina wanted to be sated and how dangerous that would be for her. It was far easier to keep people at arm's length, that way there was no risk of subterfuge. Attraction was the fast route to being stabbed in the back. In this case, it could mean literally.

An archer who had obviously been laid back in his post immediately snapped to attention when he noticed Ashe approach.

"Drengmóðir." His young freckled face coloured as he shifted nervously under her gaze.

"I am going for a morning walk."

The young guard looked to his companions standing stiffly nearby, they all matched his confused look. The sun hadn't even begun to crest over the horizon, this late into the year it wouldn't even show for at least several more hours.

"W-well of course Dróttning. It's just, it's not safe for anyone to traverse alone, let alone... well…" the guard trailed off, clearly unsure if he was overstepping boundaries. "Well, we just want to make sure you'll be safe."

Ashe offered him a brief smile. "Very well. You will do." She made to continue out the gates.

The guards all looked hurriedly at one another. There were some hushed whispers, followed by less than subtle nudges before the same freckled one that spoke scurried after her.

They walked for a while in the dark, the snow crunching beneath their boots the only thing breaking the silence. The youth walked several paces behind her, looking every bit like a nervous pup. Hours passed before the first rays of light slowly began to paint the landscape. Ashe led the way up craggy slopes, making winding turns all the while. Finally she stopped at one of the many forks in the road.

"You will wait here for me."

The warrior looked at her with the same expression he gave her earlier. "But-"

"That is an order."

His shoulders dropped, defeated. "Yes Drengmóðir."

Ashe softened her features. The boy could not have been any less than a decade her junior. "What is your name?"

"My name? Um…" he stumbled over his words at the turn of conversation. "It's Alfrothul."

"I will only be just a moment, Dreng Alfrothul. I promise to return, I just need you to stand guard here. Will you be able to do that for me?"

The boy nodded fervently. Ashe offered up a quiet thanks and continued on her way alone, taking a sharp turn off the path as soon as she was out of sight.

Though the way was along an unbeaten path, and she hadn't traversed it in many years, she still knew exactly where to go. Soon enough she found the entrance she was seeking, a cave hidden on the rough element hewn rock face. A solid wall of true ice sealed the entrance a few metres within its mouth. Ashe reached out, the ice crumbled away beneath her hand, and reformed itself once more the moment she was safely beyond its threshold.

Avarosa's cairn stood the same as she had last seen it; The stacked boulders of true ice adorned with runic inscriptions proudly centred in the middle of the chamber. Ashe approached, leaving footsteps behind in the frost dusting the glacier-like floors, providing little glimpses into the depths below. She knew that somewhere under the layers of ice, Avarosa's body slept. This was her final resting place.

As Ashe stepped closer, she summoned Avarosa's bow, it appeared in a burst of cold wind and frost, crystallizing from her palms outward towards the ends of its limbs. She placed the bow on the top most stone, where she had originally found it years ago. There was no glow or crackling force of magic, unceremoniously unlike when she had first picked up the artefact. Just silence.

Feeling a little silly, Ashe lowered herself to sit in front of the makeshift altar. She didn't even know why she came here in the first place. It wasn't as if a several century old grave of a leader long gone could tell her how to solve all her problems and be a better queen.

She didn't know how long she sat there with her heart in turmoil, time made no sense without the sky or a Piltovan timepiece.

"You chose wrong." Her voice echoed in the chamber, bouncing around in ice coated walls.

No response. Of course there wouldn't be. It was just her. It had always been.

She picked up the bow again, leaving the chamber feeling no more enlightened than she did entering it.

She found Alfrothul exactly where she left him, standing look out with a diligence that had been lacking when she had first met him. A nod in greeting and they were off again, the young archer leading their way back home.

It was coming into mid afternoon when Rakelstake's crystal spires twinkled into view. Ashe placed a gentle hand on Alfrothul's shoulder, halting his step. She pointed ahead, slightly off the path, to a small herd of mountain goats foraging moss nearby. It seemed their fortune was not so bad after all. Ashe quickly pulled her wooden bow off her shoulders and deftly strung it. True ice arrows would only ruin the flesh. She motioned for Alfrothul to flank the herd, he nodded and darted around, using the landscape as cover.

She took a short moment to line a shot up and let her arrow fly, it whistled through the air and landed cleanly in the neck of a large ram. The beast bucked, its bleat strangled by the blood pouring out of its wound. The herd immediately scattered, taking for the woods. Ashe let loose another arrow, the shaft embedded deeply into the poor creature's eye, putting it out of its misery. She watched as another arrow came from opposite her, downing a smaller goat. She had to give the youth credit, he was a good shot.

Ashe examined the kills as they trussed them up. This would temporarily help the food shortage at Rakelstake, the meat would last a while if salted and preserved, and their coats looked healthy, good for winter furs. She watched in amusement as the boy attempted to tug the larger ram by the ropes. The boy was small, built of wiry muscle. Still, it was a rather large ram and it would be hard to move for someone of his stature, especially without a sled. Ashe bent down, bracing herself as she lifted the weight of the corpse across her shoulders.

"Distribute the weight evenly, it will be more manageable that way."

Ashe felt her heart break a little when Alfrothul look at her with an expression of abject admiration. He followed her instructions with the smaller goat.

"Come. We are nearly home."

* * *

Ashe ran hard, her heart pounding in her chest. The rapid footsteps behind her an indicator of how close her pursuers were behind her. She vaulted over a log, the familiar sound of blades landing solidly into wood followed suit just moments after. She didn't spare a backwards glance, the crystalline hawk circling above provided her with enough of a view as she would need. Ashe banked left, and grabbed a low hanging branch. She used her momentum to swing herself up into the branch, turning just in time to release an ice arrow. The arrow impacted with the spinning axe a mere metre away, redirecting its trajectory. The enchanted executioner's axe spun backwards directly into Draven's hand. He whirled the weapon around showily, stroking his greasy goatee with his other hand. The scaly silhouette of Renekton joined his side.

"Come on down Princess, it's only a matter of time."

Ashe didn't respond to the taunt, only leaping up to a higher branch. Draven lazily tossed an axe in her direction, not looking the least bit surprised when she deflected with another arrow. He made a motion at her perch with his head, looking at Renekton pointedly. The Shuriman charged forward, growing in bulk as sand seemed to gather and swirl around him when there wasn't any just moments before. He hit the trunk with a resounded thunk, his curved blade carving a neat cleft in the bark. Ashe hopped to the next tree branch, barely managing to dodge another spinning axe.

She was going to run out of places to jump to soon. She was cornered. This match wasn't going very well, the opposing team had pushed them to defend in their own territories, their portions of the jungle were no longer safe.

The tree shook heavily as Renekton snarled, and splintered the wood with his shoulder. The impact loosened the archer's footing, and she slipped off the branch. Ashe hissed as she felt her skin scrape across the bark when she grabbed at the branch again, barely managing to hang on. She kicked out blindly, feeling Renekton's jaws snapping at her ankles.

Draven cackled wickedly and prepared to throw another axe, only to be interrupted by a loud resonating roar. They all knew the roar of the elder drake, but they would not normally hear it this far out from its lair. A large shadow passed overhead and another deep roar shook them to their cores, moments before a swath of fire erupted at Draven's feet. Ashe glanced up to see the elder drake hovering overhead, with Braum astride its back, blood pouring from his temple.

"Have no fear! Braum is here!"

She allowed herself a quick moment to be impressed in his taming of the beast, before letting go. Her boot struck Renekton directly in the nose, and she used the impact to vault backwards out of the way. She had cleared a short distance, narrowly getting out of the way for Braum to come cometting from the skies, his large shield slamming into the ground. Ice erupted from the impact, lacerating everything in its path. Renekton now a decoration piece for the ice wall that formed. Ashe shot an arrow through his forehead for good measure.

With the ice wall separating them from Draven, the two turned towards their base. Ashe spared a glance backwards, to see the moment the light left Braum's eyes when Katarina slit his throat. Ashe's arrow whipped through the purple smoke left behind as Katarina disappeared from atop Braum's shoulders. His body collapsed lifeless to the ground, but Ashe paid it no notice, her eyes scanning he foliage for a sign of his slayer. She pressed her back to the rock face behind her, the tension in her bow pulled tight. At the sound of rustling to her right, she snapped into motion, a volley of arrows scattered outwards. Katarina spat out a curse when arrow pierced her shoulder, effectively pinning her to the tree behind her. Ashe raised her bow, another arrow trained directly at the redhead.

"Welcome back, princess." Katarina snarked.

Ashe released the arrow. Katarina squeezed her eyes closed, preparing for a death blow that never came. The frosted arrow passed by Katarina's ear, drawing blood at her cheek, and continued on, straight into Draven's open mouth, clearly preparing for another smart quip as he approached. Ashe almost felt sorry for him as he choked on his own blood, his flesh singed by fire and rended by dragon talons.

Katarina took the opening granted to her, and grabbed the arrow in her shoulder, snapping it in half. Wielding the splintered ice like a blade, she slashed viciously. Ashe dodged and weaved desperately, avoiding each attack. Katarina vaulted upwards, jumping impossibly high, throwing the broken arrow like a dart at the peak of her arc. Landing on her feet, she didn't allow the defending archer any time to recover, as she drew her blades, diving forward again in a frenzy of strikes.

Ashe countered the attacks blow for blow with her bow, cold shards showering everywhere as steel ground against ice, but she knew she had to switch tactics soon, she couldn't hope to match Katarina in close quarters combat for long. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Katarina caught her off balance, a poorly timed block left her open for a follow up. The upwards slice sent her bow spinning out of her grip. A kick followed suit, and Ashe found herself on her back, the press of a knife against her throat. Was that blood on her neck? Or the melting ice dribbling water down the length of the blade?

"Should have shot me first."

Ashe felt her traitorous heart flutter at their proximity. She pushed the feelings down, gritted her teeth, and grabbed at Katarina's dagger hand. Katarina let out a sharp yell as Ashe willed the temperature to drop beneath her grip. She shoved the surprised assassin off, and scrambled to her feet.

The pair faced off, neither breaking eye contact. Ashe briefly noted that Katarina had switched her knife to the other hand. Not that it really mattered, she fought Katarina enough times to know that she wielded her blades in both hands with equal skill.

Katarina made to close the distance, vanishing from before Ashe's sight. She ran through hasty calculations, she knew Katarina's patterns from thousands of fights. She took into consideration the density of the nearby trees and her own blind spots. An attack from behind, it was the most logical choice. She whirled around, drawing the knife at her belt to parry. Both combatants eyes widened in surprise to see the Freljordian knife's blade extended wickedly by a layer of ice. Ashe's mastery of ice magic was still rudimentary at best, but in moments of strife, she managed to surprise even herself.

Ashe swept a low kick, taking Katarina's feet from under herself. The assassin recovered quickly with a back flip. This time, Ashe was ready to strike, plunging her dagger back into the wound her arrow had originally tore into Katarina's shoulder.

Katarina yelled, stumbling backwards on her feet. Ashe took the momentary opening to re-summon her bow in a flurry of ice crystals. A single frozen arrow trained directly at Katarina's heart.

Ashe wasn't quite sure if she imagined the impressed look on the other woman's face before she took the shot.

* * *

If there was one luxury Ashe's enjoyed in the Institute, it would be the fancy bathrooms. A private bathing space with peace, quiet, and a massive tub. If anything, she needed it more here than back home. Ashe leaned back, letting the water take away the soreness of the day's battles. She had participated in no less than a dozen prize matches, fighting battle after battle until her body finally could take no more of the fatigue. She hated how much of a spectacle the league's matches had become. The whole world watched these matches, even the prize matches, while champions fought. Betting was rampant, sides were taken, illusion magic used to change their appearance was commonplace, it was no more than a mere sport to some. And to others like herself, they fought for the livelihood of their nations. She had no choice than to have more eyes on her than ever before for the survival of her people.

Today's matches were a mixed bag, some great victories, some crushing losses. It helped that Braum participated in his fair share, their pooled winnings were then immediately negotiated with the Institute of War for food stores and winter supplies. Still, it was a good start.

Ashe blinked her eyes open, feeling something amiss. There was a sound coming from the other side of the closed door. Ashe quietly pulled herself up from the tub and wrapped a towel around herself, her other hand gripping the dagger she left nearby. Whomever the other person was, they weren't going though the trouble of trying to make themselves quiet. Ashe swung the door open, knife at the ready.

The figure on the opposite side of the room paused their rummaging through her hextech ice box, and straightened, bottle in hand.

"Katarina."

The redhead smiled, and took a swig of the bottle. Tryndamere's Mosikiældavín.

"What are you doing here?"

Without offering a response, Katarina vanished, reappearing once more in Ashe's face. She expertly twisted the knife out of her grip, and once again, Ashe found herself with a blade to her throat, at Katarina's mercy.

"How much would it cost to keep your mouth shut about our last meeting?"

Ashe stared calmly back at the green eyes that regarded her, only vaguely aware that she was garbed in nothing but a towel.

"What makes you think I have not already sold your reputation to Demacian intelligence?"

The blade at her throat was pressed slightly harder. Katarina's eyes roamed her face, as if looking for something. She let out a harsh monosyllabic laugh.

"You're good. I can't tell if you're joking or not."

Ashe considered this. It was clear that Katarina didn't want this information known as much as Ashe did. And from the sounds of it, she hadn't told anyone else either. The threatening manner was also a bluff, there was far more to lose in murdering another champion than just her reputation. It was also good that Katarina had no idea what Ashe's own reputation meant for her.

"That depends how much you want me to be joking." She couldn't make it seem like it would be too easy to shut her up.

"Two thousand gold." Ashe fought to keep a straight face. Two thousand gold was not anything to sneeze at. "A little birdy mentioned you've been participating in a lot of prize matches since you've come back. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

Katarina tucked Ashe's wet hair off the side of her face with the blade in her hand. Ashe held her breath a moment and slowly released it.

"You have yourself a deal Sinister Blade."

Katarina smiled a wicked smile, and released Ashe. "Very good. I'll have the funds prepared." She stalked around to Ashe's other side, still not breaking eye contact.

"Is there still something you need?"

"I don't know. Is there?" Ashe didn't miss the lilt in her tone. "You know, despite all the mess it's made for me, I think we can both agree it was still pretty… fun." The last word trailed from Katarina's mouth right by Ashe's ear. She could smell the familiar heady scent of the Mosikiældavín on her breath.

Ashe felt her face flush. Was Katarina propositioning her? Just after buying her silence?

"Surely you are joking."

"I don't joke. Like I said, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours." Katarina dead panned. Then she let her trademarked grin crack her facade. "Still as ice cold as ever. What happened to the woman under me just a few weeks ago?"

"I have not the slightest clue what you mean." Contrasting her words, Ashe felt a familiar warmth begin to settle in the pit of her belly.

"Oh come now, stop pretending. Nobody's watching." Katarina brought her face closer, light green eyes flashing through a curtain of lashes, looking almost as if they were glowing in the low light. "I just want to peel back the layers and see what makes you tick."

Ashe felt warm fingers gently trace the side of her jaw. She swallowed hard as the heat in her belly sunk lower, now very aware that she was completely naked. Katarina too seemed notice this same fact, and purposefully pressed her body closer to Ashe's, her face mere centimetres away.

"And I just can't tell what exactly it is about you that interests me. Now that I have a taste of the fact that there's a wilder side, I just have to see more." Katarina's tongue darted out, just a moment, and licked Ashe's lower lip lightly. Ashe's breath hitched in her chest, her heart pounding a rapid rhythm alongside it.

Katarina chuckled and pulled back, that oh-so cocky grin still alight in her features.

"It can be our secret. Why don't you just let go?" With that last remark, Katarina finally brought her lips against Ashe's. The temperature difference was stark. Even though she felt like she was burning up inside, it was nothing compared to the sensation against her lips.

It was slow at first, but she found herself ravenous for more. She began to kiss back with a ferocity that surprised even her, her hands roaming to find purchase in Katarina's red mane. She partially registered the towel dropping to the floor at some point, but the thought departed her when Katarina's nails clawed at her back.

Ashe's voice left herself in a gasp when Katarina stopped to refocus her attention to suckling her neck. In turn, Ashe's nimble fingers helped relieve the assassin of her jacket. Ashe maneuvered her foot behind Katarina's knee, Katarina's eyes widened in surprise when she found the tables turned between them once again, now she was the one pinned to a wall.

"That's what I'm talking about."

Ashe smirked, and returned the favour, biting roughly at Katarina's unprotected neck, taking satisfaction in every gasp and grunt. She was no longer Ashe, Queen of Freljord, Frost Archer, Champion of the League. She left it all behind in this moment, away from the eyes of everyone. Here she was just Ashe, as affirmed by the name gasping from that ever so frustrating mouth.

She let everything go, and felt everything else but the moment melt away.

* * *

Oh yay I finished a thing. This will probably end and stay as-is. If I wanna pursue more of these two, I'll do a new thing. For now, this is considered done. Yay!


End file.
